Blackbird
by Amela333
Summary: A series of one-shots of memories, in random order, throughout the life of Severus Snape.
1. First Memory

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

**A/N: **_In anticipation of the new movie, I've decided to post the first chapter of a story that's been floating around in my head for a long time now: a series of one-shots of Snape's memories. The timeline spans his entire life and will not be chronological, and the POV will switch up sometimes. I got the title from the Beetles' beautiful song, so credit goes to them on that. I'm SURE lots of things have been posted like this before - in a fandom with almost half a million fics, it's difficult to write something not very similar to something else. Of course, if I've literally copied to a T a story that belongs to you (and I'd like to say now that I apologize, and I swear it would be unintentional), please let me know and I'll take it down._

_Also, just a warning that some chapters might be very dark, depressing and/or violent (this is Snape, after all...) and there might be some heavy language later on. Nothing that would warrant above a 'T' rating, I think, but if there's something to be wary of, I'll let you know in an author's note. I'm going to try to fit in some lighter, happier stuff from his life too, if I can think anything up :P_

_All right, I think that's the end of my absurdly long author's note. So, please enjoy, and I beg you to leave a review at the end, even a teeny little one! Please!_

* * *

I heard him shouting downstairs from my crib, and I tried to make it go away by putting my fingers in my ears. I heard her crying, begging him to stop; she must have given up fighting him long before I was born. Even at my young age, even though I didn't know why, I knew going downstairs wasn't a good idea. But I was scared - the crying was scaring me. And when I got scared, I went to my mother. It was the most basic instinct a toddler possessed. I clutched my stuffed dragon to my chest as I climbed to the ground out of my crib, the way I had just recently learned how. The dragon's name was Ashes. He made me feel safe.

I ran as fast as my short legs would carry me to the stairs, my tiny feet making barely a sound as they hit the decaying wood on the floor. I tripped a couple times, landing hard on my hands and knees. My dark, deep-set eyes, the ones he said were like his, welled up with tears, but I pushed myself back up, collected my toy dragon, and kept going. When I came to the top of the steep stairs, I turned around and began to climb down backwards. I was still too small to reach each step one leg at a time. I went down them like a ladder, moving one foot down, then the other foot, then my right hand, then n my left, in which I was awkwardly carrying Ashes by one soft, purple wing.

At the bottom of the stairs, I missed the last step and landed hard on my chest. I gave a couple sniffles as I rubbed the wetness out of my eyes with both fists. I heard the noise in the kitchen cease temporarily - they had heard me. I scooped Ashes up and pushed myself to my feet, hurrying to the kitchen, my vision a bit watery from my tears.

I didn't even make it to the door before I heard my mother's voice.

"Severus," she said, her voice shaking and choked, "It's okay. Just go back to sleep. Go back upstairs and go to bed."

"But Mama..." I whimpered, coming around through the doorway onto our dirty kitchen floor. I could see her sitting at the table, her hands partially covering her tear-streaked face. My father was standing just inches in front of me, looming like a tower over everything in the kitchen.

"Get back to bed," he snarled, and before I had a chance to move, he forced the palm of his huge hand toward me.

I was too small and slow to move out of the way completely. I tried to duck and turn my head as his open hand came toward my chest, but, with a surge of pain and the sound of a pop, it instead collided with my nose.

There was a slight, millisecond of a gap between the time when I felt wetness run down my lip and my eyes become blind with tears. It was just long enough for me to see him shove my mother back into the wall as she stood to run to me. Then he kicked Ashes into the roaring fire.

I am Severus Prince Snape. This is my first memory.

* * *

_Again, please take just a second to review, and if you feel like going into a little more detail, tell me what you liked, what you didn't, or what you think could have been better too. Thanks for reading! :)_


	2. Arrogant Brat

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**A/N:** First off, I'd like to thank the reviewers of my previous chapter: Amelia, ASF13957, Muchcoffee, and Rowan Rawr. If I couldn't thank you personally, consider this a great big, sincerely appreciative "Thank you!" :)

So now, from the last chapter, we're jumping many years into the future to what was our first meeting of Snape in the series. But of course, this is through his eyes, not Harry's. As I mentioned, the timeline here will bounce around - the next chapter, which will hopefully be posted soon, goes backwards again.

Please read, enjoy, and review!

* * *

When I slouched into my chair at the high table, I knew it would have been too good to be true that I could be rid of him forever. It seemed like just yesterday that I was at school with James Potter, and now, the cocky bastard was back. I couldn't care less that it was Potter's son and not James himself - I knew he would be just the same, just as conceited and egotistical.

I glared at the child as he and the rest of the sniffling first years walked into the hall, my eyes fixed on him from the moment he stepped inside till the point at which he sat his arrogant arse at his house table. The Great Hall's occupants whispered excitedly amongst themselves: Harry Potter, sorted into Gryffindor, wasn't it wonderful?

_Oh yes, because the house needed another inflated head._

As I watched Potter spitefully over my goblet of butterbeer, I noted with a sneer that he wore his hair ruffled obnoxiously like his father always had. He repeatedly shook it out of his eyes, probably to show off his scar to call more attention to himself. Apparently, the murmurs of all the staff along with the majority of the students when Minerva called his name to be sorted wasn't enough for Harry James Potter.

Various staff members attempted to strike up conversations with me throughout the feast. I was in no mood to engage them. Though I made a conscious effort to avoid Dumbledore's gaze, the headmaster kept shooting glances my way, probably to see if I was watching the boy. Of course I was bloody watching him.

Halfway through the banquet, Potter looked straight up at me, clearly feeling too good for the conversation he was having with yet another Weasley. That was when the green in his eyes met mine for just a split second. I inhaled sharply as my hand gripped tight around my goblet. For the half a moment I saw his eyes, my heart skipped several beats.

_No_, I reminded myself forcefully, though I couldn't rip my gaze away from him. This was James Potter's spawn, not Lily Evans's son.

Potter looked away from me, furrowing his brow, his hand reaching up to brush his scar with his fingertips. Attention seeking brat.

* * *

Reviews really truly mean a lot to me, so please take just a second to leave one :) Thanks for reading!


	3. For Lily

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**A/N: **Like with the last chapter, I need to start by saying a big thank you to all my readers, and especially reviewers: ASF13957, Catmandew, and Rowan Rawr! Every review I get makes me smile :) And smiles are good! Feedback and (kind) suggestions for improvements also make me smile, so feel free to shoot some of those at me too!

So, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

* * *

"Come _on_, Lily," I urged, one hand on the doorknob, the other reaching out for her. "She's never going to find out if we just hurry up!"

"I don't know, Sev..." she said hesitantly, holding back just out of my reach and shaking her head.

We were standing outside the bedroom of Petunia Evans, steps away from the inviting open letter that lay unfolded on the desk, and now, of all times, Lily was having second thoughts about going inside.

Five minutes ago, Lily and I had been out in the garden, and I had been telling her all I could about school - we left for Hogwarts in three weeks, and she was beginning to get nervous that she, a mudbl...a muggle-born, would be behind in her studies. I'd been doing my best to tell her anything and everything I knew about the school, which wasn't much. Mother never really talked about it - she rarely spoke to me at all, these days - and Father was a muggle and wouldn't bother telling me anything about school even if he was a wizard.

Just as I'd tried to explain the four different houses to Lily, the Evans' back door had swung open and Petunia, Lily's snotty older sister, had come sprinting out, tears streaming behind her as she ran. Lily had jumped to her feet to go and comfort her sister, but Petunia pushed her away, calling Lily a 'freak', and screaming for us to leave her alone. I'd worked very hard, only for Lily's sake, to hide my snicker; Petunia and I despised each other. Of course, the sight of her sister in such distress had upset Lily. She wanted to know what was bothering Petunia - she cared absurdly too much for the no-good muggle. I, wishing to get the ordeal over with, suggested we look inside the house to see if we could find any indication of what had bothered her.

At first, Lily had been all for the idea, determined to find out what had her sister in such a fit so she could "Make it better." But now, as I stood half in Petunia's room, Lily was having her doubts.

"What if she comes inside and sees us?" Lily fretted. "And what if Mum an Dad come home while we're in there? I'd get in a lot of trouble!"

"You said you wanted to see what was bothering her," I said impatiently. "I bet it's whatever's in that letter. Now, stop being dumb and come on!"

"I don't want to," she moaned. "It's not right. I should just ask her again when you're not around and maybe..."

I groaned and stepped inside Petunia's room, letting the dirt on my shoes scuff along the stark white carpet intentionally. I could hear Lily squealing, "Oh, Sev, please, be careful, she'll know you were in here!" from behind me. I turned around and gave her an agitated look before snatching the letter off the desk and waving it triumphantly in the air. I brought it out to Lily, holding it forward like I was going to hand it to her, then, when she reached for it, pulled it away.

"Hey!" she said, grabbing for it again. I held it high in the air, out of her reach, smiling wickedly.

"You weren't even brave enough to go in and get it," I drawled. "I want to read it first."

"Come on!" she said angrily. "Give it to me, she's my sister. You don't even care about her."

No, the truth was, I didn't give a damn about the prissy eldest Evans girl. But I'd caught the name scribbled at the bottom of the letter, and it was enough to grab my attention. "Good Lord," I said frowning, my voice lowering. "Do you know who this is from?"

"I've no idea!" Lily snapped. "That's the point!"

"Dumbledore." I said it slowly, my eyes narrowing.

"Dumbledore? Who's - ohhh..." Lily's eyes widened as she remembered what I'd told her about Dumbledore. "The headmaster of Hogwarts? What does it say? Read it!"

I tried to pull it away again, just to taunt her and be annoying, but she pulled at my elbow to lower it and stood on her tiptoes, reading over my shoulder.

_Dear Miss Petunia Evans,_

_I received your owl Tuesday afternoon and sent this reply as soon as I could. I understand how anxious you must have been to read my response._

___I was ____very flattered to hear that you believed Hogwarts was the best school option for you, and even moreso that you took an interest in learning about me in your sister's schoolbooks as well. I assure you that you need not have felt any trepidation in corresponding with me; though the texts you stated to have read mentioned my accomplishments and successes and seemed to present me as a visionary to be revered and admired from afar, they failed to show my kinder, approachable side which many of my students know me for. Your letter was, as I mentioned, flattering to read, and I am sincerely glad to have heard from you._

___Ambition at an age young as yours is most commendable. Unfortunately, t_hough I am very impressed with your academic achievements in your local grammar school as well as your outstanding report at your current secondary school, and despite your determination to prove yourself at Hogwarts, I regret to inform you that we will not be able to accept you as a student. You see, magic is something that has traces in the blood of some - few - and not others. While this is almost always passed from parents to children, if a particular individual with a non-magic family has magic in their blood, it most usually does not mean any of their other family member posses the same abilities. I assure you that if these traces were present in your blood, we would know. I am very sorry.

_Do not despair that you will not be attending Hogwarts. There are many other schools for non-magical folk just as wonderful, and I'm sure, in some cases, more, than Hogwarts. If, as you said, you do not feel challenged enough at your school, I hope you will be able to speak with your parents and find the school that suits you best, and at which you will enjoy an adolescence full of learning, growing, and enjoyment. Though I'm sure it seems unfair that your sister has a trait you do not, do not think of it as something you lack. Think of it as something that makes you unique from one another. The happiness and true successes in one's life comes not from inborn traits and predetermined qualities, but from what you chose to do with what you have been given._

_I have a feeling that one day, our paths will cross again. Until then, you have all my best._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore_

The bottom of the letter had dried teardrops smudging the ink.

Out of the corner of my eyes I peered down at Lily. She had one hand pressed over her mouth, and her eyes were beginning to well up.

"What is it?" I asked her, grinding my teeth together in an attempt to keep from rolling my eyes.

"It's...it's...so sad," Lily sniffed, wiping under her eyes. "I had no idea that she wanted to come to Hogwarts so much. She told me she didn't want to go to such a stupid school."

"Well, she was obviously lying, wasn't she?" I said disinterestedly, going back into Petunia's room to replace the letter on the desk. This time, Lily came with me, clutching desperately to my elbow while she tried to blink her tears away. "It's not as though you can help it. It's not your problem."

"But it is!" Lily wailed as I dragged her out of the room. "I just don't want her to feel bad."

"So what if she does?" I snapped, getting impatient. "It's her own fault then. Who cares anyway, she's just a Muggle."

Lily gave an incredulous gasp and hit me across the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"That's mean, Sev! That's a really, really horrible thing to say!" She crossed her arms and marched away from me, storming into her bedroom and slamming the door shut.

"Lily? Lily!" I followed her, hammering on the wood with my fist. "Come on, I didn't mean it, I just-."

"Go away!" she snapped. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Just...just go home, and if you see Tuney, don't be a jerk to her."

I flicked my dark hair out of my eyes and turned for the kitchen. Muttering irritably under my breath, I crossed through the Evans' kitchen and to the back door, letting myself out. As I slouched through their garden towards the forest path that would lead to my house, I could see Petunia. She sat under a tree with her knees tucked to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her shoulders were shaking, and her face was hiding behind her arms.

An old, long branch extended from the tree just above her head. It was thin and looked near dead. If it fell, no one would suspect anything more than it had finally rotted through. How easy it would be...

But I pulled my eyes off the branch and continued on my way home, for Lily.


	4. Sport

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

* * *

A single knock preceded the opening of my office door, and a flash of white teeth immediately gave away the intruder. Apparently, there was no need for invitation if you were the five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's _Most Charming Smile Award. I had barely lifted my eyes off the essay I was grading when he barged inside and helped himself to a seat.

"Ah, Severus, old chap!" Lockhart said, beaming at me in a way that made me want to smash my jar of gnome spleens into his pretty blonde head. "I've come to have a word with you about getting a teensy bit of assistance this evening. You see, Dumbledore has just about begged me to begin a dueling club to help the students defend themself, and," he laughed infuriatingly, "busy as I am balancing professor with celebrity, I of course told him that I would be willing to fit it into my schedule."

"Begged you, did he?" I said dryly, trying to find any circumstance under which Dumbledore would request Lockhart's help over any other professor - or, for that matter, first year.

"Quite nearly, yes," he nodded, staring past me at his own reflection in my large silver scales. I took "quite nearly" to mean that Dumbledore was allowing Lockhart to flout himself in the spotlight for a little longer, at the pathetic-excuse-for-a-Professor's own request, no doubt. "I was hoping that you'd be willing to assist me in demonstrating some of the basics," he continued, smoothing his hair before prying his eyes away from his reflection to look at me. "You know, disarming, blocking and such. And fear not, my good man," he chuckled again, and I felt my lip lifting into a sneer, "I'll be sure to keep it all under control. This member of the Dark Force Defense League will restrain his talents to ensure you live to brew another potion."

"Last I remember, Gilderoy, it was _honorary _member of the Dark Force Defense League," I commented. "But that is beside the point. May I ask why it is you want _me _to assist you, when I'm sure all the other professors would be just thrilled to share the stage with you?" I doubted that even he could miss the sarcasm in my tone.

"Well," he said, shining another beam my way, though I thought I saw his feet shift uncomfortably, "I assumed that you'd be a sport."

"You do realize, of course," I said, careful to keep any indication as to whether or not I planned to help him from my voice, "that, while I am the potions master, I am equally skilled in my work with a wand. I've performed a number of charms, hexes, and curses that I'm sure your third-classed, Order of Merlin'd self would never have dreamed of attempting." For the first time since he'd entered my office, I smiled back at him. "If you were looking for someone...less competent, shall we say, with a wand than, for example, Minerva or Filius, I suggest you look elsewhere. Sybill Trelawney, perhaps?"

Lockhart's grin faltered just a touch, but he quickly wiped any hesitation off his face. "'Looking for someone less competent'? Never!" he said, clapping a hand to his chest as though I'd insulted him. "Why, I never shy away from a challenge, Severus! But if you must know," he lowered his voice as if about to divulge the secret of life and leaned in close enough for me to smell a poorly-brewed breath-freshening potion, "I was hesitant to ask any of the witches. You know the rather incapacitating effect I have on them, I'm sure, and I'd certainly hate to embarrass anyone. But come now, old Sev-o, you're man enough to stand up there with the star of a generation and keep your head above water. Am I right?" He laughed heartily and reached out to punch me playfully on the shoulder.

I didn't drop my sneer or make any indication that I'd felt the absurd gesture. "Quite," I said, raising my eyebrows and giving him a tight, menacing smile.

"Well, excellent," he said, standing up and clapping his hands together once. "You'll be a sport and help me, then?"

The images of Lockhart being thrown to the floor by my hexes, tossed into the air by a jinx, and slashed across the pompous big head with a curse appeared in my mind, and I smiled at him again. "It would be my utmost pleasure."

"Fantastic!" And he marched from the room, forgetting to shut the door behind him.

Before I could close the door, he swept back inside, one finger raised as if he'd just remembered something. "Of course," he said, ticking his finger in my direction and staring off into space, "we'd hate to scare any of the students. Best to keep it all on light-and-friendly terms this evening." He grinned at me and winked.

"Naturally," I said, shrugging one shoulder and staring him down across the table. His baby blues seemed to shrink in my coal-black gaze momentarily before he quickly scurried away.

I swung my office door closed with a wave of my wand, allowed myself a singal snort of amusement, then returned to grading essays. The thought of knocking the phony down a couple notches gave me such a boost that Weasley's essay got a passing grade.

* * *

**A/N: **It's been a while, but I love writing these little Snape oneshots, and since _Deathly Hallows Part 2 _came out, _Harry Potter _(and Snape, more specifically) is all I can think about. I had many ideas for this chapter, but Lockhart was just jumping out at me as such a funny character to stick in a conversation with Sanpe. Later on, I think I'll do a continuation that shows the actual dueling club.

I know it's been a long time, but please do drop some reviews to let me know what you thought! I really appreciate them :) Also, if you have ideas for something you'd like to see in this, let me know! I'm open to requests!

Thanks for reading!


End file.
